What ever happened
To the apology
Where did it go
When did it leave
Did it go with the right
Because we're never wrong
Did it not see the signs
Caution...falling souls
What ever happened
To the apology

What ever happened
To the I'm sorry
We used to give it away
Ever so freely
Now it only comes out
When we are caught
Beg, steal or borrow
Because it's never our fault
What ever happened
To the I'm sorry

Yet, if either were given
Could we forgive
If it was truly heartfelt
Would we believe it
We question the motive
As explanations are made
Never accepting a word
They have to say
If either were given
Could we ever forgive

I'm reading poetry at the cremation ghat
amid chanting of God's name
while ferrying and burning the dead.

The noise unsettles me a bit
as sets me thinking of my own death
that by all means seems closer than farther.

Yet I get the relieving feel
reading poems would heal
all the agonies of my flesh
and take me to that spiritual level
where I would take death as
passing into another dimension.

I'm not much of a religious person
but have always felt devoted to my kindred
seeking transcendence through them.

The best thing I'm hoping right now
is when I burn
someone would amid chanting of God's name
read poetry at the burning ghat.

Somewhere in the realms
between transcendence
            and desire
where the power of change
always takes us higher
there walks a poetess,
who writes in spirit's muse
her words curling up and out,
                    wisps of smoke
                        in celestial hues          
She walks slowly
through the heavens
bringing down
slices of enchanted spells
and we can feel the pull
of her grounding chants
right down to
        our very cells
Her words reflect the workings
of a potently spiritual mind
connected to emotions
in a binding so divine,
into darkest ocean depths
she brings forth points of light
and wherever she steps
no matter where she goes
one feels her soul, so bright
as it lifts us up into the spheres
of music and words,
spiraling in whorls
where dust
             and magic merge
and as she walks through green,
through mountains, rivers, forest
her essence often glows
in heat and coolness,
in rush of creative flow
And yes, while we feel
this journey, these seeds
being so beautifully sown
we can take those
words of wisdom
and apply them
         as our own